


Retribution

by dragonagetrash



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Asphyxiation, Dry Sex, Fights, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Past Child Abuse, Punishment, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-10 14:06:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7848028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonagetrash/pseuds/dragonagetrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danarius isn't going to let Fenris move out no matter how much he kicks and screams about it. He'll just have to accept the punishment of disobeying him.</p><p>Chapter 2 for rape aftercare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Attack

**Author's Note:**

> You don't have to tell me I'm a terrible person because I know. I know. I just like writing about Fenris suffering, that's what tends to happen to my faves...
> 
> Modern AU where Danarius is Fenris's adoptive father, they're not blood-related but I thought I better add the incest tag anyway.

“I am 19! I’ll leave if I damn well want to!”

The arguing had been going on for some time now. Rage-lined words spilling out of both parties, together with the spit and violence. Fenris grit his teeth as he headed for the front door. He was old enough to make his own decisions now. If he wanted to move out of this house and live with his accepting boyfriend, then he would. Asking for permission had been a courtesy, not to end up with a restriction forced upon him. He’d had enough of rules and regulations; they had controlled him his entire life while other people were out there doing what they wished. Hawke had taught him that.

“No, you will _not_ ,” Danarius’s voice was firm. Fenris tutted at him, ignoring his demand. He wasn’t going to listen anymore. As his feet guided him to the door, Fenris felt a force dragging him back.

He grunted as Danarius grabbed hold of the back of the collar of his black t-shirt. He reached up to where it tugged at his throat in the front as he stumbled backwards. He’d been hit and abused by this man for too long now, he wasn’t going to let him beat him into submission this time. He’d already shoved him around today. Before he could assess what he was really doing, Fenris’s fist collided with his jaw. The hold on his collar was released as the older man fell backwards, only just managing to keep himself on his feet as the pain blossomed into heat on his face. Fenris couldn’t help but feel a little smug. It was enough to keep him stood there for another few moments, to see Danarius lift his face and get a good look at the trickle of blood from his nose and the purple bruise starting to blossom around his jaw. A success. Danarius couldn’t look more furious.

Without a second thought, embracing his victory, Fenris turned around to walk out. However, before his hand could reach the door handle, there was a hand in his hair and a sudden dizziness. His vision blurred as he registered the throbbing on his forehead and in his nose and quickly came to realise that his head had been slammed into the door. He attempted to scramble out of Danarius’s grasp but to no avail.

Danarius pulled him away from the door by his hair and Fenris could see the smear of blood on it. From his nose, he presumed. It was confirmed when he could taste the metallic tang of blood on his lip. He tried to reach up and untangle Danarius’s hand from his white locks but Danarius seemed to have other plans.

“Let go of me!” Fenris exclaimed and Danarius did just that. He wrenched himself from holding him and in turned shoved him to the ground. Fenris grunted as he fell on his ass on the wooden floor of the hallway. He tried to push himself up with his hands but he was faltered by a swift kick to the jaw.

“You! You are such an _ungrateful little brat,_ ” Danarius hissed as his cheek hit the floor. Fenris pushed weakly at his leg as Danarius ground the heel of his shoe into Fenris’s cheek. His legs made a desperate attempt to kick himself away or ideally hit Danarius in the process. “After everything I’ve done for you, how I raised you, this is what you do?”

Fenris didn’t want to hear it. He couldn’t be treat like this again, never again. He had sworn to himself and to Hawke that he’d never let it happen. He wouldn’t be humiliated by another beating again.

But now Danarius was sat on his stomach, the press against his cheek absent. He heaved at the pressure, briefly winding him. He couldn’t scramble away from him when he was there. His feet slid back and forth against the floor uselessly. He reached up with his hands ready to swing at him, shove him away.

There were hands against his neck. Harder and harder, his palms drove into the base of his throat and Fenris inhaled sharply. Breath was getting harder to push out. He clawed at Danarius’s arms, his fingers leaving little red marks in the skin. Danarius only tightened his grip until there were black spots in his vision. The world was getting blurry as his head was forced up by the hands only to be slammed back down against the hard floor. He spluttered at the hit, drool pooling at the corner of his mouth. He made one last needy flurry of movement to get away. Danarius was surely going to kill him if he kept this up. Suffocating, constricting, tightening around his windpipe. Angry bruises around his neck were sure to be there. He could hardly see anymore.

“I’ll teach you some respect,” he managed to hear Danarius say. Two hands turned into one and Fenris sputtered for breath. Danarius wiped the forgotten blood from his nose.

Fenris’s eyes followed Danarius’s free hand. A clammy hand palmed at one of his thighs uncomfortably. It worked its way too close to more intimate areas, squeezing his upper inner thigh. Then it reached for the buckle of his belt, unclasping it and pulling it free from the belt hoops. Fenris’s eyebrows furrowed, was he about to beat him with it? He tossed the belt to one side, just within reach and for a split second he let go of Fenris’s throat. He gasped wildly for air, drinking in as much of it as he could. And by some miracle, Danarius lifted off his stomach.

At the freedom, he rolled onto his side, coughing harshly as he struggled to breathe again. As quickly as he could, he pushed himself up with his fingertips and moved to his knees to make a wild attempt to break free and move away from him. If he could just get some distance…

Danarius laughed at him as he pulled him back by his calf. He didn’t have the strength in his wobbly arms to hold himself up when the force was applied, his face once again hitting the ground, a winded shaky breath taken.

The belt was grabbed, Danarius jerked his arms behind him, at his back. Fenris could feel his heart hammer in his chest as he squirmed and tried to pull his wrists away from his hold. So, the belt wasn’t for beating. He assessed this as his wrists were bound with the belt, tied tightly and cutting into the sensitive flesh until it was raw. He wiggled his fingers, wondering if the blood flow would be cut off.

“S-Stop,” he managed to push out weakly. Danarius grabbed his hair and pulled his head back sharply, bending him uncomfortably.

“I told you, I’m going to teach you some respect. Now stop being such a baby,” he growled in his ear. Fenris shuddered at the feel of his breath against the back of his neck and trailing in imaginary wet stripes behind his ear. Where was he leading with this?

He rested his knees on Fenris’s legs, keeping them pinned to the floor. By this point, he was too weak to move. He panted against the floor, squirming a little every now and then. He hoped to just close his eyes and submit whatever fate Danarius intended. He was sure that he was going to beat him within an inch of his life. Danarius’s hands slid against the back of his shoulder blades, almost gentle. Confusion pooled in Fenris’s mind. Then something hard rutted against his backside and a blockage formed in Fenris’s throat. He wanted to cry out when Danarius pushed his t-shirt up and wrinkled fingers dipped in the waistband of his jeans.

“H-Hey what are you…what are you doing?” he choked out as the hands slid around to unzip his jeans, making them fall slack at his hips.

“Shut up!” Danarius yelled, shoving Fenris’s face harder against the floor and forcefully yanking the jeans and the boxer-briefs underneath to his knees. Fenris whimpered as he was exposed, feeling the air on his backside and where his balls hung between his legs. He squirmed, shame creeping up his spine as his face turned a bright shade of red. He could feel a wetness brimming in his eyes as he was humiliated and his movement only countered by a hard, painful slap on his ass. It made him cry out but it stilled him as Danarius intended.

Rough, calloused hands pulled apart the cheeks of his ass. Once again he felt the steady grind of Danarius’s erection against his behind. The older man sighed softly, squeezing the smooth dark flesh.

“Are you a virgin?” he asked suddenly, moving away to rub his fingers against the tight hole between his cheeks. Fenris swallowed roughly. He wouldn’t answer that, couldn’t. The humiliation burned into his skin. He jerked and choked on a sob as the fingers roughly pushed themselves inside. He couldn’t possibly be doing this; he had pulled himself so far away from reality. This had never happened before. “Hmm. I suppose not. Who was it that deflowered my little Fenris? That Hawke boy perhaps? Yes, sounds about right. Did you let him fuck you? I’ll kill him for taking what was mine,”

As he spoke he moved his fingers around inside him, a hopeless attempt at preparation. It felt wrong, inside him, stirring his guts up with two long fingers and pulling apart his dignity. Fenris squeezed his eyes shut, there was nothing he could do. Maybe he wouldn’t go any further than this.

The fingers were yanked from him as quickly as they were put in. His hole twitched around their air that the stretch that had been left behind. He wanted to be able to force him out, out of his life, his body, his mind. He cringed as he heard Danarius spit viciously on him, thick globs of saliva over his asshole. He had to think of something, anything else, to get away from the sensation of Danarius rubbing in the saliva over and lightly inside his hole. They penetrated him, but not as deep as before.

His breath was stolen away from him at the sound of Danarius’s zipper. He had to get away, make one more attempt to free himself. There was no strength in his body, frozen in fear, tears beginning to slip from his eyes. He was trapped here. He couldn’t do a thing.

“P-Please…please stop s-stop I can’t…I can’t, please,” he began to babble as he felt fat tears ran down his cheeks and the blunt head of Danarius’s cock at his opening. Danarius’s knees crushed harder into his legs, paying no mind to Fenris’s hoarse cry whilst he pushed inside of him. It was difficult to get him to accept the head, but once that was in, it was a slow sharp slide. Tight, heavenly tight, Fenris tried his hardest to force him out of his body. Snot puddled alongside the blood from his nose as he wailed like a child, fingernails cutting into his palms.

Danarius exhaled as he finally seated himself to the hilt, glancing down to admire how his cock was sucked in by his body. He seemed to completely ignore Fenris’s sobbing against the floor, drool pooling beside his slack lips. He slid his hands along his ass, slapping the tender flesh twice and enjoying how Fenris’s breath hitched each time.

Searing heat, the burn was unbearable. It scratched up his insides, he was sure that the wetness was blood and he recoiled at the thought. How could he do this to him? He might as well have shoved nails inside him and drew cuts into his inner walls.  The crying wasn’t easing any of the pain but he couldn’t stop. He’d been stretched like this before, but it had been careful, never like this, never this much pain – not even the first time he’d been breached.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this,” the words made Fenris’s eyes snap open. Danarius leaned over him, rolling his hips to pull out and slam back inside so he whimpered. “You feel just as good as I’d imagined. All those times I spent wrapping your dirty laundry around my cock. I wasn’t going to let you out of my grasp before I’d fucked your sweet little ass,”

Fenris struggled to shake his head. He couldn’t cover his ears and block the words out. Every time Danarius thrusted inside him, he couldn’t help but slip out a small pathetic noise. The burn wasn’t going away. He’d lit a fire inside him that he couldn’t escape from until it’d destroyed him. He pushed in as deep as he could go, letting Fenris’s cock hang flaccid between his spread legs the entire time

“You’re so tight around my cock Fenris. At this rate, I won’t last long. It feels good. I don’t think I could stop even if I wanted to because you’ve really got a tight hold on me,” Danarius laughed.

He didn’t know how long this went on for. It definitely felt longer than it was. Time moved so slowly when he could feel each agonising push and pull of Danarius’s cock against and inside his hole. His legs trembled, struggling to hold his weight but Danarius was keeping him there and wrenching his hips back to meet his thrusts. He just wanted it to be over, he didn’t want to have to feel him throb inside him anymore.

That thought was regrettable when Danarius stilled inside him. He keened and cried out as a hot gush of fluid filled him, splashing against the cuts inside him like salt on an open wound. Danarius moved his knees off his legs as he dragged himself out, grunting at the blood on his cock.

Fenris sniffled as Danarius looked at his handiwork, watching how the cum inside him had streaks of pink as it mingled with the blood. It dripped pitifully down his thighs.

No matter how much it hurt, he was done now. It was over. Fenris managed to garner all his strength into one blow, kicking Danarius in the stomach causing him to wrench back and allowing for a second hit to the face. As Danarius writhed on the ground, startled, Fenris managed to reach back and grab the waistband of his jeans pooled at his knees. He jerked them up, just enough to spare him some dignity and stumbled to his feet, away with Danarius. It was difficult with his hands bound, but once he was out and into the night, it was over. He ran as fast as his legs could possibly carry him. Where he was going? He didn’t know.

Eventually he stopped in an alley, crying a little from relief or anguish – he didn’t really know – and tried to scrape the belt from his wrists. The tears turned into frustration as he struggled but at long last, he freed himself. He rubbed his sore wrists, the skin covered in red welts. He used his now free hands to wipe the tears and finish the job of zipping up his jeans.

He stumbled his way to the park nearby, flopping on a bench. His legs ached, his ass and lower back burning in protest to the rough treatment. Deep bruises bloomed on his neck, his hips, his face. There was no mistaking what had happened. He thought of Hawke, sleeping at home, waiting to know whether Fenris could move out and live with him inside. He almost wanted to laugh.

There was no way he could see Hawke like this, not yet, wake him in the night to see him crippled like this. He didn’t think he could make it that far away anyway, not with the ache in his body. He’d wait until morning.

Yes. Morning. His eyes shut slowly.

It could wait until morning.


	2. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke deals with Fenris the day after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ask and thou shall receive.  
> And thus I feel this will conclude this fic.

The sun was glaring at him through the window as if in a desperate attempt to wake him. Hawke groaned, shielding his eyes from the heat, giving in reluctantly to the waking world. His eyes flickered around his bedroom before settling on his window. Why were his curtains open? Had Leandra been in here? Usually she’d wake him if she had come in his room. He was sure he shut the curtains last night. Maybe he was just delirious, still half-awake as it were, and he managed to push himself out of bed.

He yawned, pulling a shirt from off the floor and shoving it overtop his bare chest. He wandered downstairs clad in the shirt and his boxers, in search of some answers from his mother. He looked around the house but couldn’t see the woman anywhere. Maybe she went out? He poured himself a cup of coffee and rubbed his eyes. She usually went shopping on a Tuesday though. Today was Saturday. Emergency milk or something? He stared at the bottle of milk he held in his hand that he had poured into his coffee. Maybe not.

Carver might know, he thought, wrapping his hands around the warm cup and wandering upstairs to his younger brother’s room. He knocked and took a gracious sip of coffee as he waited. Seconds later, Carver opened the door seemingly wide-awake and fully dressed.  

“What do you want?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“Have you seen mum?” Hawke replied. Carver straightened up and raised his eyebrows.

“She didn’t wake you up when she went into your room this morning? I thought she might’ve told you what was going on,” he answered. Hawke’s eyebrows furrowed. So she was in his room this morning. What for? His room hadn’t looked any less untidy than it had last night. What reason would she have had to come in his room? His curiosity only grew as Carver continued. “Last I saw she went out with Fenris,”

Fenris?

That’s right, he’d asked his boyfriend to move in with him. He’d told him that he was going to break the news to Danarius. He grimaced just thinking about the man. He didn’t care whether they were related by blood or not, there was no excuses for the way he treated Fenris.

“Okay, thanks,” he said and Carver shut the door. He wandered back downstairs and took a seat on the sofa with a sigh. He took another long gulp of coffee.

Butterflies fluttered in his stomach. Perhaps Leandra was helping him collect some of his things. Did he intend on surprising him with the news perhaps? He hoped so. He’d long anticipated for their relationship to be taken one step further. They’d been together since they were 14, 5 years now, he thought. He’d give it a few months of living together and then maybe…maybe there could be more. Would Fenris want to get married? Maybe he should bring it up first.

Slowly, he finished off his coffee and placed the cup on a coaster on the coffee table. The caffeine in his system was starting to settle in. He figured he’d go and put some jeans on, especially if he was anticipating Fenris’s arrival. He smiled at himself in the mirror as he fully dressed himself. He’d just watch some television while he waited for them to come home.

By the time he got to the bottom of the stairs, he heard the front door click. That would be them. Sure enough, it was, Fenris and Leandra.

“Fenris!” he exclaimed cheerfully without hesitation. But as the door opened wider, Hawke was glad that he had finished that cup of coffee because there was no doubt he would’ve dropped it and let the hot liquid splash over his feet.

There was no mistaking what had happened. He paled at the sight. His gaze was downcast, head bowed in an attempt to shield the purple bruising around the base of his neck and littered across his face, centring mainly at his jaw where it faded more into blue. Any more injuries were hidden by the clothes that swamped him, they made him look tiny. Hawke’s heart hammered in his chest as he realised they were his clothes. Fenris was wearing his clothes. What had happened…?

In the end he found himself looking to Leandra for answers as it appeared Fenris was in no state to talk.

“You go shower Fenris. Get some sleep, use Garrett’s room. I’ll talk to him if that’s okay?” she suggested, eyeing Hawke carefully. Fenris nodded and didn’t even look at him as he walked past.

Leandra grabbed Hawke’s wrist lightly, tugging him into the living room and shutting the door behind her. She exhaled softly.

“You mind telling me what’s going on?” Hawke was first to speak. He could already feel the anger boiling in his veins. Someone had hurt Fenris and pretty badly it seemed. Fenris was trained in self-defence, he could crush him in a fight that was for sure. So the culprit led back to Danarius once again. For some reason he was more pliant in his hands, he supposed it was because the abuse was never limited to just hitting.

Her eyes averted, looking towards the ground as she guided Hawke to sit with her on the sofa. She was having trouble knowing where to begin. How did one tell their son what had happened to his boyfriend?

“Fenris was…” she took a deep breath. Hawke watched her movements carefully. “Fenris was sexually assaulted last night.”

“What? By who?” he demanded angrily, hands curling into fists on his jeans. Leandra shot him a pitiful look. He knew that he knew the answer but there was no way he was going to admit it to himself. Not even as the words left Leandra’s lips, he didn’t want to hear it.

He was going to kill him. If it weren’t for the fact that Fenris needed him, he would’ve gone there and murdered the bastard himself. Danarius was as good as dead to him. Leandra’s hand moved over his to soothe his rage as the tears bubbled in his eyes.

“He came knocking on our door very early this morning in tears. He’d slept on a park bench all night. I asked him if he wanted to talk to you but he said no. He…told me what happened and I took him to the police station. They asked him some questions, did some rape kits, they’ll have enough evidence on that disgusting, foul old man to lock him up Garrett. It’s going to be okay,” she explained, squeezing his hand. “I know you’re angry but right now Fenris needs you. He’s staying with us, Danarius won’t hurt him again. He needs you to be there for him more than ever,”

Hawke had to swallow his anger. Fenris needed him.

Upstairs, Fenris reluctantly shed Hawke’s clothing. It had been comforting even if it didn’t fit in the slightest, just the smell, the closest to home he’d ever get. He’d showered plenty of times at Hawke’s house before, he knew how to work it. When the hot water hit his skin he silently wished for it to burn through his flesh.

It didn’t matter how hard he scrubbed. His skin was beginning to redden into an angry shade through the digging of his nails, raw at the rough ministrations. He scrubbed harder and harder there was this thick layer of filth glued to his body and it wouldn’t come off. He couldn’t shake the grime, the disgust, this sticky coating of you should’ve seen the signs and it’s your fault you couldn’t stop him. He inhaled weakly, his hand slapping against the wet tile of the shower wall. He watched his hand curl into a fist, head slowly bowing to get the shower head to spray over his hair. He washed it quickly, taking little care gliding his fingers through his white locks and washing out the soap suds.

They’d taken all of the evidence from him that they could. It was left to him to scrape away what was left of his hold. He heaved as the last of it slid down his thighs. A hand grasped uselessly at his stomach, worried that he was going to give in to the bile pooling in his throat. He wrenched himself forward, eyes glistening with tears, gasping desperately. He stumbled out from under the shower once he saw it drip on the shower floor and swirled down the drain.

The vomit scratched up his throat, barely making it to the toilet bowl. He coughed, spitting out thick globs of phlegm that had gathered afterwards. What he hadn’t expected was the hoarse sobs to follow. The tears were hardly spilling down his flushed cheeks. He slammed his fist a couple times on the toilet, crying pitifully as the wet from the shower soaked the tile floor of the bathroom.

Eventually, he sniffled and pushed himself up from a pathetic mess on the floor. He flushed down the aftermath, returning on unsteady legs to turn off the shower. Silence.

He dried himself with a towel, noting how his skin had become wrinkled from how long he’d been in there. Then he picked up Hawke’s clothes from the floor and brought them to his face so he could inhale the smell. He put them on and embraced the feel of the material against his raw skin. He decided to forget the shoes and socks.

Quietly he walked through Hawke’s house and into Hawke’s bedroom. As he laid on the soft covers of his bed and snuggled into the material, the taste of his vomit in his throat slowly subsided. He hadn’t realised how tired he was.

“Fenris…?” Hawke’s voice startled him a little and he looked over to see the man peering in from the doorway with a glass of water. “Do you mind if I come in?”

Fenris shook his head. In truth he was a little grateful to see him. Hawke walked in, shutting the door behind him and sitting on the side of the bed where he lay. He didn’t say anything for a while, silently offering him the glass of water. He accepted, much to Hawke’s relief, taking a large gulp and appreciating how the cold water calmed the raging fire in his throat. He sat up to do so. Before he knew it, he’d drank the whole glass. He looked down at the glass in his hands, fingers gliding over it to make patterns. Hawke took the empty glass from him carefully and set it on the nightstand next to his bed. Once he was done, he moved back down to lay down on the bed.

“Fenris, Leandra told me what happened. I…I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I—” Hawke’s words fell from his lips as Fenris pushed a finger against his lips. He settled a little against Fenris’s touch. He stared at him as the finger slid away from his lips. Fenris shook his head.

Hawke felt his gaze linger down towards the dark bruising around Fenris’s throat. Perhaps it was difficult for him to talk. He didn’t want to ask him to talk. Hesitantly, he pulled his legs up onto the bed and shuffled closer to him. They laid facing one another, quiet.

“Do you mind if I…?” Hawke was reluctant to touch him in case he freaked out. He delicately moved a hand to rest on Fenris’s shoulder.

To his surprise, Fenris moved into the touch. He scrambled to embrace him, wrapping his arms under Hawke’s arms and pressing his face against his chest. He inhaled deeply, listening to the rhythm of Hawke’s breathing and the soft beat of his heart. He said nothing as Hawke joined, tightly embracing him with his arms around his waist and pulling him close. Fenris had to blink away the tears, he was certain he had none left by then, as Hawke pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head on his damp hair.

“We’ll work through this, through all of this. You have me, I’m always here for you. I love you, Fenris. I love you so much, nothing will ever change that,” he mumbled and he could’ve sworn he heard Fenris let out an appreciative groan.

He had no doubts it was going to be difficult. Nothing like this was ever easy. Leandra had talked with him about therapy, perhaps for them both and not just Fenris. Danarius spending time in prison just wasn’t good enough for all it was worth. For all he’d done to Fenris over the years. In the least, he was glad that Fenris had decided to speak out against his adoptive father this time. They’d had too many fights about that already.

Fenris’s eyes fluttered closed, eyelids growing heavy as he nestled into Hawke’s embrace.

It would never be enough to fix him, but it was enough right now, in this moment.


End file.
